


Yours Always

by Forbiddenmichael



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Ashton Irwin - Freeform, Calum Hood - Freeform, F/M, Luke Hemmings - Freeform, Michael Clifford - Freeform, and luke is shy, and then fluff and stuff, and you dont see each other, and your happy, anyway very cute, but kinda a bit sad as well, eek oh well, he goes on tour, hes all cute and embarrased, so he is basically saying this to you, then bam postcards, then he comes back, you and luke are bffs, you are the girl, you talk but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:38:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4673855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forbiddenmichael/pseuds/Forbiddenmichael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slumping up against your side, his suitcase and carry on thrown carelessly in the back of the car, you felt his breath on your neck. He clung to you with his arms tightly wrapped around yours, as if he was a koala and just seeking warmth. The car bumped and jumped down the road, your head vibrating against the window which it was pressed against. Your eyes vibrated, blurring your vision. The heat of Luke’s skin against yours was enough to remain in your uncomfortable position. Luke’s limbs lay splayed out on the seat to your side, and across your own body. It had long since gone heavy as sleep had claimed him, not feeling too happy about the way his large shoulder digged into your stomach or how heavy he was in your lap but also happy to grant him the sleep he had been lacking whilst away. You ran a hand through his static hair, made fly-away by running his hand through it one to many times before, on the flight.</p><p>or when you finally see luke after so long and things seamed to have changed since when he was just the boy who left all those months ago</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours Always

**Author's Note:**

> I like this one even if its a tad unrealistic

They were back. But to be more specific, he was back. The boy with the fluffy, soft-unless it was stuck up with gloopy, sticky hair gel- quiffed blonde hair, eyes the colour of the blue pigment in a sapphire which twinkled just as brightly, pale taught skin across a broadly and bulkily built frame that towered over the majority, if not all, people. Dressed in black from head to toe, his lip ring of the same depthless shade, ghostly pale arms hung loosely at his sides still lanky, but significantly more muscular since the last time you’d seen him. The newly 19 year old boy engulfed you in a bone crushing hug, nuzzling his head down a significant amount to ruffle into your hair. “God, I’ve missed you” he mumbled into your hair, his voice barely audible thanks to the general hustle and bustle of the arrivals lounge of the airport. The usually strong accent to his voice had faded slightly since he had been on tour, something you were determined to change and rectify during the time he had off. You nodded into his wide chest, felling his shirt ride up once your head rose and fell against it. The smell of your best friend reminding you of home even though it had been months since you had both been there together. “C’mon,” you said, tugging on the hem of his shirt and away from where he had swooped you up directly in front of the door leaving the exits to the arrivals. After the usual “Are you guys together?”, “What a cute couple” and just the general comments about how you and Luke were made for each other, you left the airport. He had grabbed his bag and carry on before meeting you so was now using one hand to drag his impressively large case that rattled noisily and the other threaded and entwined with your hand.

It had always been like this. Luke and Y/N. Y/N and Luke. The two of you against everything. The bullies who tried to make fun of the way Luke used to nervously chew on his lip, a habit he hadn’t dropped but just switched to chewing on the metal through his skin instead many years later. Your parents. Occasionally his parents. And just anyone who tried to get between you. Spending the whole of your lives encased and wrapped in each other and the constant company, when you had begun high school that hadn’t changed. You didn’t necessarily always eat lunch together, him mostly eating with the three equally dorky boys wearing matching jumpers. Simple and grey with a logo and words underneath it: 5 Seconds of Summer. Soon, through many late night talks of coaxing Luke through his nervousness, you knew how much that simple garage band meant to him. To Luke, the innocent, doe eyed, nervous boy, this band was more than just that. He threw everything he had into the band. And now, years later, it had paid off. All four of the boys had grown up together, matured and expanded how they viewed the word. Of course they were still immature, ridiculously so, but now with more sense of what was expected of them. Which from your point of view was too much. Too much pressure, too many commitments and just too much was expected of the three Australians and the one Kiwi boy. You could tell that from the downwards slant of Luke’s shoulders, as he clambered into the back of a taxi back to your apartment and the deep purple bruises underneath his slightly blood shot eyes from too many sleepless nights. Not that he didn’t love it, or that you didn’t love him- loved him a bit more than you should.  
Slumping up against your side, his suitcase and carry on thrown carelessly in the back of the car, you felt his breath on your neck. He clung to you with his arms tightly wrapped around yours, as if he was a koala and just seeking warmth. The car bumped and jumped down the road, your head vibrating against the window which it was pressed against. Your eyes vibrated, blurring your vision. The heat of Luke’s skin against yours was enough for you to remain in your uncomfortable position. Luke’s limbs lay splayed out on the seat to your side, and across your own body. It had long since gone heavy as sleep had claimed him, not feeling too happy about the way his large shoulder digged into your stomach or how heavy he was in your lap but also happy to grant him the sleep he had been lacking whilst away. You ran a hand through his static hair, made fly-away by running his hand through it one to many times before, on the flight. He’d been to see his parents and the rest of the Hemmings’ the week prior, taking advantage of the free time in his schedule to meet them before taking the short flight to see you; his second family.

“Lu?“You whispered to Luke through the quiet and pitch black of the car. “C’mon Lu, we’re here now” You whispered again, running a lingering hand through his flat hair before giving his shoulder a slight shove. “You need to get off me” you laughed softly, pushing his shoulder more firmly this time, waking him slightly. He groaned and mumbled something incoherent before twisting in your lap so his nose and face was pushed tightly against your stomach. Seizing the opportunity, you spotted a thin line of white stomach from underneath the hem of his shirt, reaching down you poked him there. He let out a squeak and sat up too quickly. Banging his head on the roof of the car, earning a disgruntled look from the driver, but then pouting at you. His eyes were still half closed and there was a slight mark at the corner of his mouth from where he had been dribbling, a mark you were sure would be mirrored on the material of your jeans where his head was. You smiled at him, reaching forward to wipe the mark off his face, “Bags, then sleep” you soothed. He simply nodded.

Needless to say Luke had been no help whatsoever in helping you pay the driver, getting his large bags from the back of the car, somehow dragging them up the steps to your apartment, managing to open the door and then finally throwing them on the floor. All of which you had to do simultaneously; in the dark of the night which had fallen and to top it all off with a whingeing six foot tall child clinging to you like a lost puppy. Using your foot to close the door behind you, it closed roughly, you just pointed to your room and Luke was gone. Without so much as a word or a gesture he had stumbled into your room still in his travelling clothes and flopped on your bed. And from the snores that echoed through the house about ten minutes later, he had fallen quickly asleep. Normally you would join him, snuggling up within his huge frame, but today you thought against it. After spending so many nights in the cramped quarters of the tour bus you though Luke would prefer the space more than the two of you curled up in your single bed. With a lot of self-loathing and annoyance at yourself, you thought about how in moments like this it would just be good to be selfish. Be selfish and just go and bask in the warmth of Luke’s body against yours, but instead you were too giving and let Luke have his sleep. So after creeping into your room to grab some pyjamas, you slumped on the sofa. Pulling the blanket over yourself and think how good right now would it be to just be that little bit selfish.

*** 

About halfway through the night you heard shuffling. Feeling tired yourself- but because of many nights of being pulled apart by nerves and excitement for Luke’s arrival- you ignored it, thinking it was Luke trying to find the bathroom. But you then felt the feeling of strong hands under you, and then the sensation of falling. Eyes still closed and brain still clouded over with the fog of sleep you didn’t try to understand what was happening. Only snuggled closer to the warmth that was next you, and thinking that the sofa had gotten extremely comfortable since the falling sensation. The duvet and pillow were also quiet nice as well. And so was the strong arm wrapping around your waist and tugging you closer to the owner and their body heat. The sound and feeling of a kiss being placed to your shoulder echoed through the room and tingled across your skin before you were asleep.

*** 

You woke up with the streaming sunlight across your face. Disorientated, you blinked a few times. Feeling warm and well rested, a feeling you would not get from sleeping on the sofa. You were in your bed. With the blanket from the sofa still clutched in your hands, you remembered falling asleep there. But you also remembered the strong hands and the feeling of falling. You smiled to yourself, Luke had brought you here. But the thoughts of his hand dragging your closer and his lingering kiss to your shoulder were unimaginable, too similar to your dreams to be real. Once the sleep had fallen from your eyes, you twisted over in the sheets, feeling them wrap around and cocoon you. Luke wasn’t next to you. His smell still lingered on his side of the pillow and there was still warmth from where he had slept, but he wasn’t there. Clanking and banging from the kitchen confirmed he had ventured into the house. You sat up and propped your head up against the head board. Luke had obviously begun to unpack in the early hours of the morning when the jet lag had made sleep impossible. Various pairs of black skinny jeans, singlets and general t-shirts had been pulled out of his case and lay in a messy pile next to it; he had been looking for something. After knowing Luke for so long you knew his habits, how if he was living out of a case he kept everything neat and tidy but how if he was looking for something he grew frantic, throwing stuff out of the way to find what he needed. You frowned. You’d ask him about it later, you thought.

A timer set of too loudly in the kitchen, which was followed by a curse from Luke. There was a bang and the squeaking of the timer stopped. Was Luke cooking?! He never cooked, unless he was making waffles. God did waffles sound good right now, you thought. Stretching and raising your arms above your head you sighed, happy that you finally had your best friend on the same continent as you, let alone the same house. You reached besides your bed, dragging a pair of tracksuit bottoms that had been shoved between your bedside table and bed frame, and exchanged them for the sleeping shorts you were currently wearing. Thankful for the extra layer of protection against the chill of the air in the apartment, you flicked your feet of the edge of the bed and set them on the floor. You stood up and then began looking for some socks or hopefully some slippers to cover your ice cold feet. The floor on this side of the bed was mostly clean, void of Luke’s clothes and his suit case. Getting on your hands and knees you searched under your bed for something. Not seeing anything, you cursed before stopping abruptly.

Underneath the spare blankets that you kept under your bed, you could see the white shiny corner of something. Something that defiantly wasn’t there the few days before when you had put the blankets there. Reaching your arm as far as it would go under the bed, resulting in some contortion skills from the rest of your body, you snagged the corner. You gripped it between your forefinger and thumb and pulled. Instead of what looked like one laminated paper coming from under the blanket, a whole bundle did. Wrapped and wrapped in what looked like brown twine or string, was a huge stack of at least thirty postcards. Where the hell had these come from? You thought. The lines in your forehead depend as your brow furrowed and your eyebrows knitted together. You gripped one string on the tied ribbon keeping the bundle together and pulled it free.

The postcards were all immaculately kept, not a single one dog-eared or battered. You picked up the first one. It was of a couple eating at a little delicatessen outside the Eiffel Tower-one of the most clique postcards you’d seen. Flipping it over you read. In the corner was a simple written “No. One” with a date from a few months back. “Dear Y/N, so I thought I would write to you, seeing as I’m not that good with catching you with the time zones. So I can update you with what’s going on whilst I’m on tour. This is the first one, hence the number but yeah. Okay, I don’t really know what to say but we’re in Paris today. Thought the card was cute though. Right okay. Yours always, Luke”. That was not what you were expecting. Luke never did stuff like this.

You flipped to the next postcard, an overly large cartoon of a man speaking in what looked like German. “Dear Y/N, today we are doing some shows in Germany. I don’t know what this postcards says but maybe it’s funny? Yours always, Luke”. The bubbles started to rise in your stomach, fizzy and popping and filling your insides with a excited nervous mix.

Postcard number 6: “Dear Y/N, there were no postcards at the hotel so I had to get the producer to go and get this for you. I miss you Y/N. Yours always, Luke”.

Postcard number nine: “Dear Y/N, I haven’t sent any of these postcards yet. I will, but what happens if you never get them, or just think I’m weird. You wouldn’t think that right? Yours always, Luke”. The fizzing and popping within your changed, from an exciting mass to a churning uncomfortable feeling.

Postcard number fifteen: “Dear Y/N, I saw a girl at a meet and greet today. She looked so much like you, I almost kissed here. Kissed you. Yours always, Luke”. 

Postcard number eighteen: “Dear Y/N, I still haven’t sent any of the postcards. Yours always, Luke”.

Postcard after postcard fell from the stack, Luke’s messy smudged handwriting adorning them all. Post card number twenty: “Dear Y/N, I thought I saw you in the crowd today, I miss you so much. Your always, Luke”.

Postcard number twenty three: “Dear Y/N, the boys keep asking me what’s wrong. I’m struggling Y/N, I need to see you. Yours always, Luke”. But Luke had talked to you most days, always sounding chipper and badgering on about how great touring was. 

Postcard number twenty eight: “Dear Y/N, can’t you come on tour with us? I asked Ash about it and he said we are allowed to bring people with us. I need you. Yours always Luke”.

Post card number thirty one: “Dear Y/N, I haven’t sent any of the postcards yet, tour is nearly over. I can see you soon. Yours always, Luke”. 

Post card number thirty four: “Dear Y/N. I love you. Yours always, Luke”.

The perfectly kept postcard fell from your hands, floating to the ground and landing separate to the stack of other postcards. “I love you”, “yours always”, “I need you” were the words that repeatedly swam around in your head, repeated over and over again as if someone was whispering them. The image of the words was as equal haunting as Luke’s messy print became engraved in your head, flashing up over and over again. Whilst reading the postcards you had already been sat on the floor, but now you slumped with your head in your hands, looking down at them and the landscapes and drawings on the backs of them all. This is what Luke had been looking for. His frantic search was too hide his hearts words that he had spilt all over the laminated cards.

Due to the ghostly whispers of the words in your head, you didn’t hear the awkward shuffling behind the door or the click as it was opened. So when a chipper voice spoke, you were equally as shocked as the owner. “Rise and shine, sleeping beau-“ standing inside the door frame was Luke, dressed in a pair of dark grey sweat pants and a white shirt, his head bowed to stop himself from hitting his head on the top of the door frame, and his body blocking the view into the other room. He was holding a plate with expertly made waffles on it, a pot of Nutella next to them and a steaming cup of coffee in his other hand. His sentence had got caught in his throat when he saw you, not in bed where he hoped he could wake you up with breakfast from, but on the floor surrounded by the pieces of card. The happy expression on his face fell, turning from one of fear to another, harder expression. He walked into the room, placing the steaming drink and the waffles on the side, and sat down on the floor opposite you. Sighing loudly, he steeled his expression, tightened his jaw and then finally looked up at you. Eyes vacant compared to yours which were filling with tears. He flinched at your expression.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you croaked out. “Why didn’t you send them?” you repeated when Luke ignored your first question to just stare down at the floor. “I-I-didn’t know what y-you would s-say” he whispered, twiddling with the drawstring on his trousers and continued to stare down into his lap. “And what did you think I would say?” you asked, calming down and willing your tears to not fall from your eyes. Luke simply shrugged, but his own eyes were growing red with tears. “Lu?” you questioned, using his pet name. Something you wished you could call him with more than just a friendly tone. “I don’t know Y/N!” he shouted, before taking in your startled expression at his outburst and stopping. Clenching his jaw and looking down again, if you looked closely enough you could see a small tear run down his cheek and fall onto the carpet. It soaked up and the material turned a darker colour. The smell of coffee and waffles filled the room. “What did you want me to say?” you whispered, so quietly you didn’t expect him to hear it, it wasn’t really meant for him anyway. More for you, as a question to yourself. But he had heard you, and as the words tumbled from his mouth, your world came crashing down.

“I wanted you to say you missed me too, you needed me too. That you would come visit me, stay with me. That you would come so I could hear your laugh again, see the little crinkles by the side of your eyes when you laugh too hard, just hear the sound of your voice not through a phone or Skype call.” He stopped, cutting himself off. He looked up at you now, his expression full of something you couldn’t put your finger on. His hair was flat, his cheeks a rose pink colour, his blue eyes diluted with tears, and their salty tracks visible on his pale skin. Taking a long blink and a sharp intake of breath, he spoke again “I wanted you to tell me you loved me.” He withdrew into himself once he had said the words out loud. Almost expecting some sort of huge outburst from you about how you were his best friend and that he was like a brother to you. That or some sort of psychical reaction, like a slap. All the air rushed out of you at once, you felt lightheaded, your vision spinning, whilst the world seemed to have stopped moving.

Your mouth opened, somehow managing to form words. “I love you Luke” you murmured. And his head shot up. His eyes cleared and his mouth parted. “What?” he asked, his voice trembled and his hands appeared to be shaking where he had rested them on his knees. “I love you” you repeated, this time more clearly. Luke was dumfounded, his jaw dropping from slightly parted to fully open. Stuttering before speaking again he said, “As in you want to ki-“. You didn’t let him finish his sentence. Leaning across the scattered postcards towards him, you took a fistful of his shirt and pulled. Pulled him down to your height, leaving his lips and face close to yours. When he blinked you could almost feel the fluttering of his eyelashes against your skin. “Yes” you breathed out, his lips inches from yours. His breathing was erratic and the little puffs of air that left his parted mouth tingled against your skin. He didn’t say anything else before he jutted his face forward and your lips met. The feeling of him this close to you was euphoric. His lips were plump and soft, moving sweetly against yours, angling his head so your top lip was between his. Cool coldness of his lip ring contrasted with the increasing warmth of your lips against each other’s, making chills run directly down your spine and causing you to shiver. He pulled away briefly, his lips still brushing yours as he spoke, the lip ring catching on your bottom lip, “I love you” he mumbled, pecking his lips to yours momentarily, “and I’m yours, always” he said before kissing your again. He was yours, and you were his. How it had always been. Luke and Y/N. Y/N and Luke. But now really entwined with each other, in every way you had always imagined.


End file.
